Light and Laughter
by CII
Summary: Short novella. Set just prior to Rise of the Sha, Neltharion is visited by Archmage Khadgar. He had come to seek the help of one who could solve the mystery of the possible fate of Outland. A prelude to the Tectonic Divergence version of Warlords of Draenor.


He returned to Azuremyst Isle after spending several weeks with his flight. Thinking back on it sent a flush of warmth and comfort through his form, a powerful desire to deepen their connection further pressing outward from within.

He hadn't wanted it to end—still wished it hadn't.

But it had.

He felt a little better about the future, now that there were new eggs on the way, now that he felt more connected to the flight. But deep down, he knew—the universe would not allow him to have such hope for long.

For he could never truly release that pressure. Never be able connect with them—or with anyone—as deeply as he truly needed, wanted. Never be satisfied. It was a deep chasm he could not cross.

For he could not trust himself to release that pressure—none could handle it if he did.

All he would do is make those he cared for suffer.

Make them leave him, as everyone else did.

The stark truth was crushing, for every glimmer of hope he latched on to— it always slipped through his talons.

It was only a matter of time.

He had considered resuming his Earth-Warding—making another attempt to deal with the geologic mess around the Maelstrom. For while the supercontinent of Old Kalimdor was long shattered and sunk, the crust surrounding the source of its destruction had never healed. Extensive faults radiated out from the Maelstrom, others surrounding it in concentric circles—some tectonic plate boundaries, others not.

But all were hot, active— new faults appearing while others fractured, sending earthquakes through the crust and tsunami outward across the ocean's surface.

A sign of the violence of the Maelstrom.

However, in truth…the thought of flying there was…unappetizing. The faults were infinitely frustrating— those closest to the Maelstrom a constantly changing tangle that never seemed to improve, despite all his efforts at healing them.

A simpler problem had seemed more palatable, such as another attempt to quiet the chain of volcanic islands off Northrend's southern shores. They rose from deep below, powered by the subduction of the ocean plate under the Northrend craton. As such they were always lively, but those closest to the southwest of the continent had become exceptionally violent— in need of an Earth-Warder.

But the last time he had tried…

…had been nothing but a confusing and frustrating mess. Quieting one volcano had been trivial, yet it had only shifted the eruption to another in the chain.

He had moved from volcano to volcano, knocking down each successive eruption…

…only for two others to take their place, a growing sense of failure rising as each attempt only shifted the problem, made it grow.

Yet the worst part had been the vague sense of something missing. Summoning the power to quiet the volcanoes had been effortless, and he thought he had the right knowledge. But still—his efforts felt incomplete, clumsy, though he could not figure out why. It left him unsure of what to do, or how to do it. He was only glad he had been alone—nobody had seen him frantically flying from volcano to volcano, trying to contain the erupting lava as it flowed ever faster.

So when Velen insisted he return to Azuremyst for a visit— it had been an easy choice to agree.

Azuremyst stayed somewhat apart from the affairs that rippled across the rest of Azeroth, its remoteness keeping most potential visitors away. Even small holdings in Northrend received more traffic than Azuremyst.

He knew Prophet Velen appreciated the quiet, the space to sit and contemplate.

Yet that did not prevent Velen from greeting him when he arrived _._

He had shrunk to the size of a warhorse, maneuvering with great care as to not damage the newly repaired park. And there Velen stood, arms outstretched in greeting, billowing white sleeves flowing gracefully in the breeze.

"Welcome back…" Velen said, a smile gracing his withered face. "How is your flight, Earth-Warder?"

"Much better now," said Neltharion. "Um…we will be expecting several new clutches soon."

"I am glad you have found some light at the end of the dark cavern," said Velen. "You seem to have healed a bit more."

"I have a little," he replied. "But…the heaviness is still there."

"That can be expected," said Velen as he reached out to place a hand upon the dragon's shoulder, falling into step as they walked amongst the newly planted trees lining the cracked stone path. "You suffered a great loss, as did many when Theramore fell. It will not go away, not so soon. But being active and connecting with people can help lessen the sting."

Neltharion nodded his head in acknowledgment, though he did not fully agree with the words. The loss still shot wrenching pains thought the hollow of his chest, heart throbbing at the thought of his decimated flight.

Nothing could ever fill the hole left by the dead.

And not even new eggs being laid or new whelplings hatching could replace the ranks and ranks of those who had left him, and might leave him still. Of a past gone, and a future that might never be again.

"Which comes to my news," Velen said, breaking into Neltharion's thoughts. "You have a guest."

"A guest?" Neltharion asked. "I hope they're…pleasant. I don't think I can take more people… _reminding_ me of my failures."

The Prophet sighed, wagging his head.

"I don't see you as a failure. I know it is…difficult…for you to think well of yourself, but such words will only dig you further into the pit you fell into before. One day you may not be able to climb out. Remember: What you say of yourself matters more than what others say about you."

"And what do you say of me?" Neltharion asked.

"I speak the truth…that I see a troubled soul, not a monster. What you have been through is not easy to get over. But it does not change who you are."

Neltharion exhaled heavily.

"So…who is this guest?" he asked.

"I'll let it surprise you," Velen grinned, a spark reaching his eyes.

Neltharion's eyes widened, taken aback at Velen's uncharacteristic expression.

"I feel like I'm…in trouble. I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this guest," he said.

The path opened up into a small clearing, one of many scattered through the now lightly-forested park. A white-haired man stood at the center, dark gray robes and an armored collar lining his form. He seemed healthy; though it was clear he was no hardened warrior. A tall staff graced his left hand, capped by a carved raven.

The Atiesh.

The Staff of the Guardian of Tirisfal.

"Hello, Neltharion," the man said. "Don't recognize me, do you?"

"You…smell familiar, _Khadgar._ _"_ Neltharion said.

The archmage dipped his head slightly in greeting, and then approached the Earth-Warder. A suppressed tension was visible in his stride, buried caution as he approached the dragon. He stopped just out of paw-reach, standing slightly to the side— enough that Neltharion had to turn his head to center him in his sights.

"I see you recognized me without my beard," said Khadgar.

"What made you shave it off?"

"I got tired of it," he replied. "Too much hassle."

Neltharion's emerald gaze rested on Khadgar's staff, his brow furrowing.

"That was Medivh's staff," he stated. "Why do you have it?"

"It is a long story, too long to tell now," said Khadgar. "The short version—he left it for me."

"You look younger too," said Neltharion. "I know Medivh sapped much of your life away…turning a man of 30 to a man of 80 in a few minutes. But…now you look your age for once. How old are you…50…60?"

"52," said Khadgar, rubbing his square chin. "I suppose not having the beard takes off a few decades."

"It's not the beard," said Neltharion. "Your whole body is different, younger. I can…see into it. The last time I saw you, your heart was weaker: that of an 80-90 year old man. But now it matches your age. And you had a blood clot building near the elbow your left arm…it is gone now."

"Well, I'm glad to be rid of it," said Khadgar. "I've been eating healthy."

"I don't care how healthy you eat, Khadgar," Neltharion said, shaking his head. "There is no way you could lose 20 years of your own life within the couple months since I last saw you. Not unless you discovered the Fountain of Youth. And if you have, you better share. I want to get back to my younger, more slender self too, you know. Ten thousand years haven't been kind to me."

Khadgar chuckled lightly despite himself, weight leaning against the staff.

"I can see why A'dal wanted to see you," he said, face calming. He ignored the question in Neltharion's expression, instead looking at the dragon appraisingly. "Looks like you need some repair."

"We are currently reforging a few of the plates— many were badly damaged, and a few destroyed," said Velen. "But I can see about getting the smiths to secure any loose ones for now."

Velen reached out to touch Neltharion's shoulder.

"You have cooled down much since that day," he continued.

"Yeah, the ocean is a great heat sink," said Neltharion.

"That's good," said Khadgar. "But securing the plates would be wise."

"Wait…what?" Neltharion asked. "Um…why?"

"For your upcoming visit to Outland, of course. A'dal would like to extend an invitation to you— he is greatly interested in meeting you, enough that he asked me to personally extend the invitation on his behalf. I plan to return to Outland shortly to resume my studies with him and the other Naaru, and given…recent events…it would seem a good time for you to…get away for a while."

"Go with you? To Outland?" Neltharion asked. "Oh…no…nonono…I couldn't. I…have to stay here."

"I'm sure Azeroth can live without its Earth-Warder for a week," said Khadgar. "And that's all I'm asking. Something tells me you need to get away from it all."

"I am away from it all."

"From the planet, Neltharion," he said. "I…heard you still can hear the Old Gods. There aren't any Old Gods on Outland."

"They don't affect me…"

"Maybe not like they did with Deathwing," said Khadgar. "But I'm sure it's unpleasant regardless."

Neltharion hunched over, his mouth drawing a long frown.

"Please," said Khadgar. "It would be good for you to just get away from the action here on Azeroth. There's hardly anything going on in Outland now. Indeed, the Burning Legion has left."

"They left?" Neltharion asked. "The Burning Legion is gone?"

"They've been gone for many months now," said Khadgar. "Don't know why. They've been slowly withdrawing from Outland since the failure of the Burning Crusade. Once Kil'Jaeden was repelled, their withdraw picked up. Even Shadowmoon Valley is changed; no Infernals raining down from the sky anymore. Though the boiling pits of green lava are still there—Gul'dan's fel corruption still lingers."

"The Burning Legion is pulling out?" Neltharion repeated.

"Remember what I said that day?" Velen asked. "Just because Kil'Jaeden is defeated, it does not mean he is gone. There is a possibility that this is just preparation for some other scheme. We must be ready."

"One reason why I wanted to return to Outland," said Khadgar. "And why the Alliance left a few outposts there: just in case. However, the Horde pulled out a few weeks ago. I suppose Garrosh Hellscream didn't think keeping them manned was all that important."

"Most likely because he wants to fuel his war here," said Neltharion.

"I suppose Varian felt he could afford to leave a few Alliance soldiers in Outland, given your support," said Khadgar. "Though I haven't spoken to him about it recently."

Neltharion's eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"The Burning Legion pulling out of Outland…" he rumbled softly, his eyes lifting to Velen. "This…doesn't sound like a promising development."

"You should go and see for yourself," said Velen. "Perhaps you can see something they cannot. And as Khadgar said, A'dal wishes to meet you."

"I don't see why he would want to," said Neltharion. "Why would anyone want to meet me?"

"Because of who you are—a possible ally against the Legion," said Khadgar. "A'dal wants to meet all who could help the Naaru stand against the Dark Titan Sargeras. And you are a Titan construct, created by Sargeras' fellow Titans…namely the Titan known as Khaz'Goroth. A'dal wants to meet a being like yourself to better understand Sargeras, and those like him…in hopes of defeating them."

"I don't know much about my father…my creator," said Neltharion. "Though I can remember waking up in my…axlotl tank when he was…building me."

"That is more than I could give A'dal, at least."

"There is another reason," Velen spoke up. "You possess the ability to wield the Light. Though Alexstrasza possesses incredible healing abilities of her own, she does not wield the Light to heal. But you can. And it may be related to how Deathwing connected to Shadow. As Anduin said, if Deathwing wielded the Shadow, then as his opposite, perhaps you could wield the Light."

Neltharion felt his face flush with embarrassment.

"Or perhaps both Light and Shadow," said Velen. "The two are related. The Naaru are an example of this—burning brightly like the birth of a new star. And while a few may dim, they can rise to burn brightly again. In some way, you could be seen as going through the same phases, Neltharion. You once burned brightly, and then you dimmed, but now…you are beginning to burn brightly again. It is why some of the Naaru take interest in you, like O'ros in the _Exodar._ "

"I can't be that fascinating," said Neltharion.

"Don't sell yourself short," said Khadgar. "Please, would you accept A'dal's invitation?"

The Earth-Warder paused for a moment, thinking. This was an opportunity to meet one of the leaders of the Naaru— and they wanted to meet him.

But going to Outland would stir up trouble he did not wish to stir. There was history on that shattered world, history he did not want to revisit.

He sighed, shaking his head.

"I can't," he said.

"Why not?" Khadgar asked.

"Sabellian. You met him the day when you faced Deathwing. He was the one…calling for his father to wait."

"The one…with the battered wing?" asked Khadgar, face uncertain—he had not bothered to differentiate the dragons during the battle, had not marked what any had said beyond Deathwing. "I…think so?"

"He is the only child I have left," said Neltharion, missing Khadgar's uncertainty. "I have no more sons, no more daughters save him. And he hates me for what Deathwing made me do."

He curled inward upon himself, folding his great, enveloping wings against his body.

" _He_ made me abandon my son!" Neltharion cried. "I heard Sabellian call for me—while I could only watch!"

"That…wasn't your fault," said Khadgar. "It was Deathwing's."

"I know…but it's hard to…" Neltharion broke off, looking away. "That's why I can't go to Outland. I did once, briefly, in hopes of rebuilding my relationship with the few Black Dragons on Outland. I just wanted them all to come home…" He blinked, eyes wet. "…I wanted my son to come home."

"He…he didn't want to come home. He struck me, told me to leave…told me that I was no father to him. He…disowned me; the black dragons on Outland disowned me."

Neltharion took a shuddering breath.

"My own son disowned me for…something I didn't do. I tried to explain it to him…that it wasn't my choice. If I had control I would have gathered him up in my arms and flown back to Azeroth. I would have been what a father is meant to be."

He bowed his head.

"He said he didn't care; the black dragons on Outland didn't care if it was some…parasite controlling my body. It was just an excuse I used to justify my abominable actions."

He bowed his head.

"I don't care what Deathwing was making my dragons do…a father should never abandon his son."

"Unfortunately…I…never really had children myself. So I can't truly understand what you're going through, Neltharion." Khadgar shifted, looking uncomfortable. "But you're right—a father shouldn't abandon his children."

"I didn't," Neltharion whispered. "But it wasn't enough. Sabellian built a relationship with the Netherwing…the black dragons mutated by the Twisting Nether. Their leader, Neltharaku, is also my son. And he and the rest of the Netherwing didn't want to have anything to do with me either."

"Two sons. One I never knew I had…one I thought I'd never see again."

"Both disowned me."

He sniffed, wiping his nose on the edge of his wing.

"They may have done so, but others did not." Velen gently inserted. "Your flight wants you. Jace and Nameria came for you personally, brought you to them. And it's clear your flight cares— they were able to pull you out of that pit, when none others could do so. Go with Khadgar, and give yourself permission to see those that do wish to meet you."

"We will stay far from Shadowmoon Valley or the Blade Edge Mountains," Khadgar added. "We'll be in Shattrath, Terokkar Forest. That's…900 miles from Shadowmoon and 1400 from Blade Edge."

"Aren't there Netherwing dragons in Shattrath?" Neltharion asked, skeptical.

"Yes, there are; a couple," Khadgar admitted. "However, they wish to keep up good relations with Shattrath. I'll ask them to keep their distance while you're there."

"Azeroth will be here when you return," said Velen. "It held up in your absence before. Focus on meeting new faces, and let that lighten your spirits. Besides, A'dal and his Naaru can fill you with the joy of the Light itself."

"I suppose I…must be dimming O'ros a bit with my…depression," Neltharion sighed.

"No, but he is concerned," said Velen. "Even O'ros thinks this might be good for you."

The Great Black bowed his head.

"It will be no more than a week," said Khadgar. "I know that the duties of the Earth-Warder are great. And there aren't many members of the Horde there."

"There are the Scryers," said Neltharion.

"Yes, the Scryers are still in Shattrath," said Khadgar. "But they have come to an uneasy truce with the Aldor. And neither is affiliated with the Horde or Alliance anymore."

Neltharion bobbed his head, unkempt, silver and black locks tangling in his spiky scales as he looked to sky.

"Alright," he whispered, acquiescing with a soft huff. "Alright. I'll…go."

Above, dark clouds were rolling in, heavy with rain. Distant thunder rumbled.

"Ah, rain," said Velen looking up. "Good. The park needs a good rain."

He returned to Neltharion.

"Come, we'll repair the damaged armor," he said. "Have you presentable for A'dal."

The smiths heated the plates, reworking them, mending the splits and adding length to compensate for the stretched spaces between the holes.

Once they were mended and the rest of his splits ceiled, they groomed and braded his beard and sponged away any grime caught between his scales and armor. The elementium was polished and shined, gleaming even in the overcast sky.

But to Neltharion, it felt good to wash away the mess of his troubles. He would let his own cares flow down the drain along with the water, if he could. And the cool water was soothing.

He came out, feeling soft, smooth, and clean.

Khadgar nodded to Velen, and then turned to address Neltharion. "I can teleport us to the Dark Portal."

"You can't teleport us directly to Shattrath?" Neltharion asked.

"Not yet," said Khadgar. "They've got portals leading to Shattrath, but they are not yet accessible from here."

"Those portals are in Stormwind City," said Velen. "And for now…it'd be better for you stay away from there."

"Yes…right…" Neltharion sighed.

"Don't worry, we should be done in a week," said Khadgar.

"I have no worries," said Velen. "But do send my regards to A'dal."

"Will do," said Khadgar.

"Good luck, Neltharion."

Neltharion took in a deep breath, holding his head high in an attempt to put on a calm face.

It didn't last long.

Velen rested his hand upon Neltharion's shoulder.

"You'll do fine," he said.

The dragon nodded.

Khadgar tapped the end of his staff upon the ground, taking hold of Neltharion's shoulder.

A flash of blue colored the park, and they were gone.


End file.
